She wants to defend Jesse, to explain somehow the goodness inside him — the rainy days when they just laid in bed together and talked, sick days when he brought her soup, the guitar, the bicycles — but there’s no point. It’s impossible to explain what she sees, how easy it can be to look past the bad when the good is so clear.
So Summer just bowls, managing to knock down all the pins, and points out that Phoenix is Marvel when she looks up to see Zenobia’s changed her name to that, and that Batman is DC, so they don’t match. She sits quietly, watching, with her chin on her hand, while Stiles takes his turn, and doesn’t say anything when he comes back, either.
“Hey, there was at least one DC/Marvel crossover where Gambit stole the Bat-mobile and Jubilee made out with Robin, so, it’s kosher, don’t worry about it.” That’s Stiles’ advice on the protest that Phoenix is Marvel and can’t hang out with Batman for some reason.
He doesn’t even get a spare on his turn, but Stiles feels he’s well-advertised that he’s not very good at physical endeavors. Instead, when he comes back to sit in his place, he tips his head at Summer, considering her profile for a moment. His eyes narrow, although there’s no cruelty in the gesture. “Did I say something wrong? I do that a lot.”
“No, you didn’t say anything wrong.” She shakes her head, loose tendrils flying around her face. “I’m just waiting for whatever you decide to ask.” She changes Beth’s name to Dazzler, tongue sticking out the side of her mouth in concentration, and then fiddles with the end of her braid. “Seriously, you can ask me anything.”
It’s going to be something ordinary anyway; he doesn’t even have the knowledge to ask the sort of questions she might actually not want to answer. Well, ordinary by her standards — even questions about her hair or the pentacle charm she wears are pretty ordinary at this point. Although if she hears one more person on campus sing the Wicked Witch’s theme from the Wizard of Oz she might scream.